Gate 19
by iambeagle
Summary: After finding out her flight from Denver to Seattle has been cancelled, Bella accepts a ride from a stranger who is also hoping to get home for Christmas. ExB Christmas fluff, y'all.
1. One

**Disclaimer: No copyright infringement intended.**

* * *

**Denver, Colorado  
December 23  
1:48 pm  
**

**DEPARTING TO: Seattle**

**AIRLINE: United**

**FLIGHT: 129**

**TIME: 7:00a**

**GATE: B19  
**

**STATUS: CANCELLED**

I glare at the information the attendant just announced over the intercom a few minutes ago. Since I can't trust anyone in this airport, because they're all lying liars who lie, I had to check the flight information for myself.

She was right, I guess. The flight I've been waiting to board since seven this morning, the one that the attendants had been telling me would only be delayed a few hours, has now been cancelled.

I want to rage.

I head back toward my gate, trying to maneuver around people. I'm jittery and on edge and fucking starving. Airports in general are terrible, but they're especially awful during the holidays.

When I make it back to the area I'd set-up camp in, I mutter a low _shit_ when I see an older man in my seat. I shouldn't have walked away for that one god damn minute. My suitcase is _right_ there, which obviously means this seat is taken. I notice the book I was reading, which I had left in my seat, is now on the floor.

I try grabbing his attention with a polite, "Excuse me?" and leave out the _fuck face_.

He blatantly ignores me, staring at the newspaper in his hands. I mean, I'm standing right in front of him. There's no way he didn't hear me.

I try again. "Excuse me, but that was my seat and you seem to have taken it, so it'd be super nice if you could—"

"No one was sitting here," he snips.

My blood sugar is too low to be dealing with this right now. I glance around the gate, and if there were another seat open, I wouldn't even bother with this asshole. But there's not, and I need to fucking charge my phone. And eat like, twelve pizzas.

"I left my suitcase here. And my book. And—"

"You're not supposed to leave luggage unattended. Don't you fucking listen to the announcements?"

Oh, _hell_ no. I'm mildly embarrassed this stranger just spoke to me like that in public, but I'm more pissed off that he's such a dick.

"Are you kidding me?" I ask, voice slightly rising. "I seriously walked ten feet away to go check the flight info, then walked back and you had moved my things. Don't you fucking know not to touch other people's belongings?"

He clears his throat, muttering something under his breath before he sinks lower into the seat, making himself comfortable.

I look at the teenage girl sitting next to him, who had been sitting next to _me_ for the past few hours. She's probably only eight or nine years younger than I am, but because I'm desperate, I point to her and lie. "That's my daughter. Please move."

"No I'm not. What the fuck?" she hisses, staring at me like I'm deranged. And maybe I am. But I've already been at the airport for seven hours, and it's reduced me to this. I'm losing my mind.

"Fuck off, lady," the teenager adds.

Jesus. What an asshole. I just wanted my seat back. It's not like she had to actually pretend to be my daughter.

I give them both an incredulous look. It's amazing how they're making me feel like _I'm_ the crazy one, when he's been insanely rude and she just… is being all stupid.

But fine. I'll be the bigger person. Mostly because people are starting to stare and I don't really want to get kicked out of the airport.

"Merry Christmas to you, too," I mutter. "Assholes," I add. Because _fuck_ being the bigger person.

Picking up my book, I shove it under my arm and grab my suitcase with more force than necessary. Scanning the area a second time, I spot an outlet near the window that's not being used. I sit down with my back against the wall, cross my legs and fold my arms over my chest.

Everyone has stopped staring, so that's nice. And I didn't get kicked out of the airport for causing a scene, which is also a win.

I people-watch for a second and see a family who's actually smiling. And wearing Christmas sweaters. I'm irrationally pissed at them. Why are they so happy? All of the flights in Denver have been cancelled due to the weather. They should want to blow up the city, like I do.

I try to erase the last thought from my brain. It's shit like _that_ that will get you kicked out of the airport. And arrested. It's not like I actually even meant it. I'm not a fucking villain from Batman. I'm just an average girl from Colorado who's trying to surprise her dad, the one she hasn't seen in four years, for Christmas.

I sigh. Loudly. And then I lean over to my left so I can look out the window next to me. It's gray and windy and hasn't really stopped snowing since last night. I've seen worse. But do _all_ of the flights in this city need to be cancelled?

"It's not _that_ bad outside," I mutter to myself before staring straight ahead.

"Yeah, not so bad… for a blizzard," a voice a few feet away says.

I turn to my right, narrowing my eyes at the guy who decided to interrupt the conversation I was having with myself. My first reaction is to say _who the fuck asked you?_ but then he adds, "Also, that guy over there? Is an asshole."

I follow his line of sight, and glare at the man who stole my seat. "Right? Total dick."

When he nods, a piece of hair falls across his forehead. "Definitely."

He turns his attention back to his laptop. End of conversation, I guess. Which is fine, because I have a lot of things to do right now. Like… charge my phone. I pull the cord out of my bag and plug it in.

I get bored and nosy after a minute, so I try to sneaking a glance at what the guy next to me is doing on his laptop. I can't see anything from this angle. When my eyes travel up to his face, he's already looking at me.

"Um…" I start. He waits expectantly, blinking. "So, you're going to Seattle?"

He smirks. "Yep. That's why I'm sitting at this gate."

"Well… that doesn't necessarily mean…" I trail off. Okay, so it was a stupid question. "Not like we're actually going to make it to Seattle, though."

He shuts his laptop, then stretches his arms above his head. "You never know."

"Yeah, and neither do the fucking attendants. I swear they just say shit to appease the customers. I'd be less hostile if they'd just tell us the truth. They knew all along the flight was going to be cancelled, didn't they?"

The guy breathes out a laugh through his nose. "Your hostility is pretty amusing. And yeah, the attendants are pretty stingy with their information."

"Amusing? I don't find it amusing. It's stressful."

"Yes, amusing. The bit about that girl being your daughter—that was great." He laughs after a second. His eyes squint when he laughs and I hate myself for even noticing.

"It wasn't _great_," I argue, eyebrows pulling together as I frown. "It was… weird. Pretty low, even for me."

He shrugs. "Okay. Well, I thought it was funny."

_He thought it was funny_.

I don't even know what to say to that.

It's silent for a minute before I feel the need to add, "I'm not always this bitchy."

He does that smirk again. "No?"

"No. I'm just tired and hungry and don't like when people touch my things."

"You should go get some food," he suggests.

"And give up this spot near an outlet? Pass."

"Leave your suitcase so no one will take your spot." He's got to be fucking kidding me.

"I tried that before, remember? That tactic clearly doesn't work."

"I'll watch your things, then," he offers. "And I promise not to touch them."

"You're not… going to rob me?"

He barks out a laugh. "No."

"What if they say something about the flight?"

He turns his head, then tells me he'll be right back. I watch as he gets up and heads toward the counter. He says something to the attendant, using his hands to gesture while he speaks. It's kind of cute. The attendant laughs. Wow. I didn't even think she had the ability to smile. Every time I've gone up there to pester her, she's barely glanced at me. With a nod and a smile, he heads back.

"Okay. So they're not expecting any carriers to fly out before tomorrow night. Even then, it might be Christmas morning."

"What? How did you do that?"

He looks confused. "I just asked."

"You _just_ _asked_," I deadpan. "What are we supposed to do now?"

"Nothing, I guess. I don't know."

"I can't wait that long. I need to be in Seattle tomorrow." I take a few deep breaths. "I was supposed to be in Seattle _tonight_. I was going to surprise my dad, and… ugh. _Fuck_."

"Not gonna happen… sorry."

"Yeah, I'm gathering that," I mutter.

I feel tears pool in my eyes. My nose burns and my throat tightens. I feel stupid for crying, but I'm exhausted and I'm pretty sure being emotional is the only thing that's going to make me feel better.

I pull my sleeve over my hand, wiping the corners of my eyes. I'm sure this guy thinks I'm a psycho now. He grabs his phone and stares intently at it.

A minute or so later he says, "Hey, uh… I didn't catch your name."

I sniffle. "It's Bella."

The concern on this stranger's face makes me want to cry even more. God _fucking_ damn it.

"I'm Edward," he tells me.

"Hi."

"Hi." He offers a sympathetic smile. "Okay. So, I was thinking… I have a car here. A 4-Runner."

"Okay."

"What if I told you I was going to leave for Seattle tonight?"

"I'd say that you're crazy and it's going to take you forever to get there."

"Actually, I just used Google Maps and it's going to take about twenty-two hours. Not including stopping to sleep and stuff, but… that's better than waiting here, right?"

"I guess." His smile and the optimistic tone in his voice is starting to annoy me. "Have fun."

I close my eyes, hoping he leaves soon.

"No," he says, interrupting quality wallow time. "What I'm suggesting is that you come with me."

My eyes open at this. "Why would I do that?"

"Because you need to get to Seattle."

"Okay, yeah, but I also don't need to get chopped up into a hundred pieces."

"Alright, I understand why you'd be nervous." He thinks for a minute. "We can go grab some food, since you're hungry, and I can tell you anything you want to know."

I side eye him. "Accommodating. Just like a serial killer would be."

He laughs, which is a good sign. He's not easily offended. I don't actually think he's going to kill me, but I have to pretend to have some sort of self-preservation.

"Alright. Fine." I stand up, grabbing my phone, charger, book and suitcase. "Let's go."

* * *

**Hey. Some fluff for Christmas. I hope y'all like iiiiit.**

**Thanks to Kim and Vic for** **putting up with my neurotic self. Also, they didn't read the second half of this chapter because I'm impatient as fuck, so if you hate it and find mistakes, blame me. Not them. **

**Thanks for reading! Next update tomorrow.**


	2. Two

**Disclaimer: No copyright infringement intended.**

* * *

**Denver, Colorado  
December 23  
3:04 pm  
**

"How can you even see?" I ask, squinting as I stare out the windshield. Snow is pelting against the glass, and the wipers aren't doing much to keep a clear view of the road.

"I have eyes."

"Funny. Really, you feel okay driving in this?"

"I do." He slows down a bit, glancing in the rearview mirror. "I've driven in worse conditions."

"Okay."

"It'll probably clear up the closer we get to Fort Collins. We're fine," he assures me.

"Yeah, I know. I mean, even if we were to crash, we're driving so slow it's not like we'd die."

"That's very optimistic of you."

"That's not a word many people would use to describe me," I mutter. He laughs at this.

"So how long have you lived in Denver?" he asks, turning down the heat.

"My whole life."

"But you have family in Seattle?"

"My dad, yeah. My mom lives in Florida. What about you?"

"I grew up in Forks and moved to Denver about… eight years ago."

"Where's that?"

"A few hours northwest of Seattle. My family still lives there."

I frown at this news. "Hold up, dude. You said you were going to Seattle. _I'm sitting at the gate, duh_," I mock.

He chuckles at my impersonation. "I am going to Seattle."

"But… you just said you're going to Corks."

"Forks," he corrects, taking his eyes off the road to glance my way. "I was going to fly to Seattle, then drive to Forks."

I suddenly feel panicky. Maybe jumping into a car with a stranger was a bad idea. We didn't even really talk about this before leaving the airport. All we did was come up with a plan for driving. He mapped out our route while I shoved a bagel sandwich into my face.

And now I'm going to die.

Probably.

This blows.

"Give me your license," I demand.

He looks at me strangely, but lifts his ass from the seat and reaches into his back pocket for his wallet, handing it over.

"What are you doing?" he questions as I examine his ID.

"Well, _Edward Anthony Cullen_, I'm texting my mom your name, address, and license number." I scrutinize his appearance. "Would you say your hair is more of a reddish-brown or a copper color? Actually, I think I'll go with bronze."

"What's all of this for?"

"In case you kill me." I thought that was obvious.

"You know, that could be a fake ID," he points out.

I have the strongest urge to slap his arm, but I'm not sure that'd be appropriate. Anyway, if he's going to kill me, I don't want to provoke him.

"Jesus, you're supposed to be reassuring," I say instead, narrowing my eyes.

"Hey. I'm just being realistic," he laughs. "What about you?"

"What _about_ me?"

"Do I get to send my parents your info?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because the picture on my license is fucking awful."

"I doubt that."

I place his wallet in the console between us, then cross my arms, indicating that the conversation is over. There's no way in hell I'm showing him my ID.

* * *

**Y'all are the BEST. I really mean that. Thanks so much for taking the time to read and review. It makes my fucking day.**

**There will be one more update later tonight.**

**Kim read. And she laughed. So I didn't delete it. Thanks, sruP!**


	3. Three

**Disclaimer: No copyright infringement intended.**

* * *

**Fort Collins, Colorado  
December 23  
4:38 pm  
**

When we make it to Fort Collins it's still snowing, but not nearly enough to be considered a blizzard. The roads are still icy, though, so Edward's driving pretty slow. I have to admit, he's a pretty impressive driver. He's calm and even-tempered and everything I'm not when behind the wheel.

"Do you ever think about airbags randomly deploying?" I ask.

He turns down the radio, shaking his head. "Uh… no. No, I can't say I have. Has that ever happened to you?"

"No."

"But it's something you think about?"

"Most of my thoughts consist of things that could go wrong. Yes."

"That sounds exhausting," he says seriously. "Maybe you should stop thinking so much."

"That's boring."

He turns his head, staring at me for a few seconds. "You should loosen up. I don't think you've laughed once since I've met you. Or smiled."

"Well you're not very funny," I tease.

He chuckles at this. "Ouch."

"I'm joking." I look straight ahead, biting the inside of my cheek. "I'm just tired. It's been a long day, and we still have at least six hours before we make it to Salt Lake City."

"Fair enough." He yawns. "Oh. Shit. I need to stop for gas."

We pass a few places before he pulls over at a dingy, run-down gas station.

"I'm surprised there aren't boards over the windows," I muse.

He points past me. "There are."

"Don't know how I missed that," I mumble.

I watch him dig through the console and pull out his wallet.

"We didn't really figure this part out yet, but I was thinking I could pay for half the gas… if you want."

Unbuckling his seat belt he says, "That's not necessary."

He gets out of the car, shutting the door. After a second, I get out, too, standing next to him by the pumps.

"Of course it's necessary. It's only fair, Edward."

"You don't have to do that," he argues, scratching along his jaw.

"But I want to."

"I don't _want_ you to, though."

He stares down at me, giving me a stern look. The stupid, skeptical side of me decides to invade my brain. Why would a stranger offer to give me a ride—a _free_ ride—and not expect anything in return?

"You're not, like," I drop my voice to a whisper, "expecting to be paid in… sexual favors, right?"

He groans, dropping his head in his hands. "Jesus. If it's going to keep you from thinking terrible things about me, you can pay for half the gas, okay?"

I think I pissed him off.

"Sorry. That was a bad joke," I backtrack.

"You didn't sound like you were joking."

"Okay, so I wasn't. I was pretty convinced for a second that you were going to make me give you road head or something."

He lets out a humorless laugh, then swipes his card. "You're insane."

I'm not going to argue with that. "So I can pay for gas, yeah?"

"Yep. You can fill up next time we need to stop or whatever."

"Okay, good." I take a few slow steps backward. "I'm gonna… go…" I point toward the store.

When I'm inside, I head straight to the back to use the bathroom. I try opening the door, but it's locked. I knock a few times, and when I don't hear anyone answer, I make my way toward the counter. The clerk, a middle-aged woman, is standing there, playing Solitaire.

"Is there a key for the bathroom, or…"

"Bathroom is for customers only," she replies, not looking up from her cards.

"I am a customer. I'm with that guy." I point outside to where Edward's pumping gas, but she doesn't glance up as she hands me a plunger with a key attached to the top of the handle. "Can I have a key without feces on it? Please?"

"Take it or leave it," she grumbles.

Cringing, I grab it from her. I use the bathroom as quickly as I can, and make an attempt to not touch more than I have to. When I'm done, I return the plunger back to the clerk, then head outside.

"You chose the sketchiest place ever," I tell Edward when I'm back in the car.

"Cheap gas."

"The key to the bathroom was attached to a plunger. A _used_ plunger." His stare is blank, so I decide to spell it out for him. "There was shit on it."

He laughs extremely hard at this.

And I guess if he were the one who had to deal with it, I'd be laughing, too. But he wasn't. So I'm not.

"Lighten up," he says, smiling. "That _shit's_ pretty funny."

"Witty."

"Shit happens, Bella. Shit. Happens."

The corners of my mouth twitch, but I try to hold back.

Fine. He's pretty funny, but it's not like I'm going to admit that to him.

Nudging my arm with his elbow, he says, "That wasn't a smile, was it?"

"No."

"Okay, good," he replies. "Wouldn't want you to lose your composure."

"That's not gonna be a problem."

* * *

**Thaaaaaank y'all for reading. Seriously. Next update should be tomorrow. **


	4. Four

**Disclaimer: No copyright infringement intended.**

* * *

**Rock Springs, Wyoming  
December 23  
8:42 pm  
**

We make a stop in Rock Springs to grab some food and take a break from being on the road.

The town is small, every inch decorated for Christmas. There are lights hanging from every building, and the lamp posts are wrapped in garland and bows. Branches and sidewalks are covered in snow. It makes me feel like I'm in a holiday film. But then we pass by city hall, which has a giant inflatable Santa in front of it. This holiday film just got downgraded to a cheesy Lifetime movie.

"Where do you want to eat?" Edward asks.

"Honestly, I don't think we have many options."

"There's a diner up there. Does that work?"

"Sure."

He pulls over and parks next to the curb. I step out of the car, stretching my arms above my head. The air is cold and sharp, burning my nostrils when I breathe in. Edward pulls on his coat as he walks around the car. Snow crunches beneath our shoes as we walk side by side.

"I'm not sure how much longer I'm going to last," I tell him, yawning. "I need coffee."

"We only have two hours 'til we make it to Salt Lake City. If you're tired, you can always sleep in the car."

"No, I can't. I'm still not positive you're not going to kill me. That puts a damper on my sleeping schedule."

"Right. How stupid of me."

When we walk into the diner, a waitress behind the counter points toward an empty booth. We get settled as she places two waters and plastic menus in front of us.

"Holler when you're ready," she instructs.

"Can I just have everything?" I joke before she walks away. She stares blankly, not amused. "Okay, yeah, we'll let you know when we're ready."

Edward laughs when she disappears behind the swinging doors of the kitchen. "Nice."

"Tough crowd," I mutter.

His phone rings, and I glance down at the screen, seeing the name _Alice_ before he picks it up.

"Ah, shit. I should get this."

"Yeah, yeah, go ahead."

I pretend I'm reading the menu while I listen to his conversation.

"Hey, sorry I didn't call you earlier." He pauses, listening. "Yeah, change of plans. I'm actually driving to Washington." Another pause. "Yeah, all the flights were cancelled, and they weren't sure when the storm would clear up. I should be there on Christmas day, though." He laughs at something she says, then ends the call, but not before saying _I love you, too_.

"Sorry," he tells me, sliding his phone into his pocket.

"No problem." I focus on the stained table. "Was that your wife?" I casually ask.

"No."

"Girlfriend?"

When he laughs, I look up. "No. That was my sister."

"Cool."

"Yeah. Do you need to call anyone… your boyfriend or whatever, while our phones have service?"

I don't even fucking know why, but the way he's staring at me makes my face heat up.

"I don't have a boyfriend."

"Girlfriend?" he teases.

"Nope. Not even a girlfriend. I think I'm better off alone."

He regards me for a moment. "I can see that."

I know he's only agreeing with what I've just said, but for some reason it annoys me when he says this. It's not like he even fucking knows me.

"Why do you think that?" I ask with more attitude than I should.

"I don't know." He shrugs. "You just seem too cool for everything."

"Is that so?"

"Yeah. I mean, don't get me wrong. It's highly amusing. I'm just wondering when you'll finally stop putting on a front."

"A _front_? Who are you, a member of TLC?" He chuckles, but doesn't say anything, so I add, "Sorry I'm not all fucking laid-back like you."

"You don't have to apologize."

"Clearly I do."

"Clearly you only hear what you want to hear."

"Clearly you… are just dumb."

I look away when he chuckles. If I just keep my eyes off his face then I won't notice things, like his squinty eyes or the way his lips curl when he laughs.

The waitress appears again, apathetically taking our orders. I don't make any jokes, and we hand over our menus before I busy myself with scrolling through Facebook.

Edward hums something. It sounds familiar but I can't place it.

"What are you humming?"

"Christmas With The Devil. It's by Spinal Tap," he explains. "Have you seen that movie 'This is Spinal Tap'?"

"Of course I have. I'm not a fucking caveman."

"Well, after they did the movie, they went on tour and made like, two or three albums. All their songs are hilarious." He pauses, rubbing his eye, then starts singing. "_The elves are dressed in leather and the angels are in chains. Christmas with the Deviiiiil_." His voice is high-pitched and '80s rock-ish and so ridiculous, I can't help but laugh. I wasn't expecting him to actually sing it.

"Oh my god." I'm laughing so hard, it turns into a wheeze. It's unattractive and embarrassing. I drink some water and collect myself.

He looks concerned. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah. That was just the most ridiculous thing ever."

He chuckles, shaking his head. "Glad I could entertain you… enough to make you laugh. Finally."

"That wasn't a laugh," I lie. "It was an asthma attack. Don't you feel stupid."

"Get over it. You think I'm funny."

I'll just pretend to ignore him until our food arrives.

* * *

**I'm a dick 'cause I'm late for work so I could update, and also because I made Kim and Vic speed-read this chapter.**

**But hey, okay, thanks for reading, y'all!**


	5. Five

**Disclaimer: No copyright infringement intended. **

* * *

**Salt Lake City, Utah**  
**December 23**  
**11:14 pm**

I feel someone shaking me followed by a voice.

"Bella." Another shake.

Startling awake, I sit up straight. I'm disoriented and drooling… I think. I bring a hand up to my mouth, and yep. Definitely drooling. Fucking _perfect_.

Edward's sitting in the driver's seat, hesitant smile playing on his lips. I look out the window, squinting against the harsh lights that are shining through the glass.

"Where are we?" I groggily ask.

"Salt Lake City. You fell asleep."

"Yeah, no shit… Thanks for not killing me, by the way."

"I thought about it. Mostly because you snore," he quips.

Well, that's fucking embarrassing. I play it off with, "Whatever, dude. So what are we doing?"

He scratches the back of his neck. "I got us a hotel room. I figured we can stay here for the night, then hit the road early tomorrow morning." I'm still stuck on the part where he said he got us a hotel room. I think he catches on to my unease because he adds, "I got us each our _own_ room."

The look he gives me makes me feel bad. Just a little. I know he's not a bad guy, I just like teasing him. He obviously doesn't give off a skeevy, serial killer vibe, otherwise I wouldn't fucking be here right now.

"You didn't have to do that. Pay for mine, I mean."

"It's not a big deal. I did try waking you up like, five times, then got tired of waiting."

"Well… thanks."

"Don't worry about it." He holds up two card keys. "Do you want room 227 or 228?"

I grab one out of his hand. "Don't care."

"You can go ahead and get settled. I'm gonna drive around and try to find a store."

I unbuckle my seat belt. "What do you have to get?"

"Beer."

"Oh. Okay."

"You can come with if you want. I just figured you'd want to finish your dream about Kid Rock."

My eyes narrow at this. "I didn't have a dream about Kid fucking Rock."

"You most definitely had a dream about _fucking_ Kid Rock."

"Dude, no."

"_Dude_," he mocks, "yes. You talk in your sleep. Best entertainment for the past hour."

I don't know if he's teasing me or not. I can't remember having a dream about Kid Rock, but who fucking knows. I decide to get out of the car so I can wallow in this shame alone.

When I make it to my room, I immediately dive face-first onto the bed. I lie there for a couple of seconds before realizing I'm not even tired anymore thanks to my accidental nap. I turn on the TV and flip through the channels, stopping on one that's playing Jingle All The Way. It's bad. Awful, really. But that doesn't stop me from watching twenty minutes of it.

I'm getting really into it when there's a knock on my door. I check the peephole, then open the door when I see Edward.

"You forgot this." He places my suitcase in front of me, then looks past my head. "Jingle All The Way. Nice."

"It's awful."

"That's what makes it great."

I shift from foot to foot. "Thanks for bringing my suitcase in."

"No problem." We stand there awkwardly. "What time do you wanna leave tomorrow morning? It's gonna take us around eleven hours to get to Portland, so the earlier the better, I guess."

"Jesus fuck. Okay. Seven, I guess?"

"Seven it is."

He lingers in the doorway. Or maybe I'm the one who doesn't make a point to move. It feels weird to be standing here with him, without a console between us or the road ahead of us. I don't really know how to act.

"Did you get beer?" I ask, glancing down at his empty hands.

"Yeah. A six-pack." His eyebrows pull together when his forehead creases. "You didn't need anything from the store, right? I forgot to ask."

"No, I'm good."

"I guess I'll see you in the morning, then."

"Yeah. Unless… you want to watch Jingle All The Way. And share your beer with me."

With a grin he says, "I could do that."

"You should."

"Okay. Gimme a second."

He comes back a few minutes later, carrying the six-pack of white IPA. He uses a bottle opener that's attached to his keychain to open a beer before handing it to me. I sit on the edge of the bed, grasping the cold bottle.

"That's cool." I sip my beer and point toward the opener.

"Thanks." He holds it up, and I lean in to get a closer look. "I made it," he says, sitting down beside me.

"No shit. You made that?"

I stare at his hands, watching his fingers as they glide across the wood. "Yeah, I carved the handle out of some scraps I found at the shop where I work."

"That's awesome."

He feigns a look of surprise. "What, no smartass remark about me dealing with wood all day?"

I snort out a laugh. "Dammit. Why didn't I think of that?"

"Because you _couldn't_ think." His smile is smug as he adds, "You were too busy being mesmerized by the _wood_ in my hand."

"Okay." I point toward the TV, fighting a smile. "Watch the movie."

* * *

**She's warming up a little bit 'cause she had a nap, okay?**

**Merry Christmas Eve, y'all!**

**Thank you SO much for reading.**

**Kim and Vic are the best!**


	6. Six

**Disclaimer: No copyright infringement intended.**

* * *

**Salt Lake City, Utah  
December 24  
8:58 am**

When I blink my eyes open, Edward's face is the first thing I see.

Which is fucking weird. Not that I'm complaining, though. As far as faces go, his is a very nice one to wake up to. I'm mostly just confused as to why he's sleeping next to me.

I sit up, glancing around, trying to put the pieces together. Bed: still made. TV: still on. Myself: still clothed (and all body parts still intact). All signs point to us passing the fuck out. Which is pretty innocent.

I look over at Edward who's still asleep. He's kind of cute when he doesn't have that stupid smug smile on his face.

He groans, rolling onto his back. When he opens his eyes, he doesn't look nearly as surprised as I was to find he's in my bed.

His voice is gravelly when he asks, "What time is it?"

I pick up my phone. "Almost nine."

"Shit." He scrubs a hand over his mouth. "Okay. We should probably hit the road."

"Alright. I might shower real quick… if we have time."

"Okay. Maybe I'll go gas up and get coffee and food while you do that. Can you be ready in thirty?"

"Yep."

He stands from the bed, tossing the empty beer bottles into the trash before leaving the room.

Huh.

Okay.

I try not to overthink what just happened. Although, I guess since nothing happened, there's nothing for me to overthink. Not that I thought there would be a chance of anything happening. But… there was a point last night when I was on my third beer and feeling warm and he made me laugh and it felt nice. So maybe I did think about something happening. Only once. Or twice.

After I shower and gather my things, I head to the parking lot. When I get closer to the car, Edward leans across the console and opens my door from the inside. I get in, and he points to my coffee in the cup holder.

We buckle our seat belts, and I try not to focus on the fact that he changed his clothes. His shirt is red plaid and his jeans are faded. His hair looks darker, like maybe it's still a bit wet. Like maybe he showered. When he glances over, catching my eye, I quickly look away, focusing on the road.

I feel awkward. So fucking awkward. And I have no real reason to back up this feeling. Maybe it has to do with the fact that I know so much about him now. After talking last night, he's no longer just Edward, the stranger who offered to drive me to Seattle. He's Edward, the woodworker. The guy who has one sister and one brother, both of whom he misses. He's a man who does nice things for people he doesn't know, like buys them coffee and opens car doors for them and offers them rides.

Basically, what it comes down to is that he's just _too_ fucking nice. And I don't know how to deal with that.

He heads toward the highway, interrupting my thoughts with, "I mapped out our route while I was in Starbucks."

I sip my coffee.

"I figure we can drive straight to Portland tonight," he suggests. "Maybe stop halfway in Boise for some food."

"Okay."

"Unless you want to head straight to Seattle tonight."

"Doesn't matter."

"We'll already be on the road for like, eleven hours. So it might be good to take a break."

"Sounds good." I feel his eyes on me. "What?" I ask, slightly annoyed.

"You're being weird," he accuses.

"I'm not… _being weird_. I'm agreeing with what you're saying."

"You being agreeable _is_ weird."

I scoff. "Isn't it a bit early to be rude?"

"Says the girl whose every comment is drenched with sarcasm."

"What's _your_ deal, dude? You're in a shitty mood or something. Just drink your coffee."

"I'm not in a shitty mood," he tells me with a light chuckle. "In fact, I slept extremely well."

I turn my focus to the nothingness beyond the window. And for the next five hours, I try my fucking hardest not to read too much into what he's just said.

After we stop in Boise for a quick lunch, we don't hit the road again until six o'clock. By the time we finally make it to Portland, it's almost ten at night.

We drive around until we find a hotel that's not super sketchy, and while Edward's inside getting us a room, I call my dad. He doesn't answer, but when I'm mid-voicemail, he calls me on the other line.

"Daaaad. You always send me to voicemail."

"Bells? Hello?"

"I'm here," I say louder into the phone. "Can you hear me?"

"That's better. I tried answering your call but sent you to voicemail. Sorry. I'm getting too old for this shit."

I laugh at the thought of Charlie dealing with technology. "It's okay."

"How are ya?"

I glance toward the hotel lobby, staring at Edward. "I'm good, I guess. You?"

"Fine, fine. I didn't catch anything all day, but tomorrow might be better."

I frown at this news. "Where you fishing at?"

"Nisqually River. Billy and Sue let me borrow their place for the holiday."

"Oh. When are you heading back to Seattle?"

"Few days after Christmas. I had some vacation time saved up."

Of course my dad's not even in Seattle. I was calling to let him know that my plan of surprising him was going to take longer than I thought, and now it's fucking pointless. And I don't want to ruin what he has planned, so I stay silent.

"The reception is spotty. Can I holler at you tomorrow?" he asks.

"Yep." Pretending like I'm not on the verge of tears is hard. "Merry Christmas, Dad."

"Merry Christmas, Bells."

We hang up. And I just sit there in the passenger seat, staring at my phone. Edward comes back out to the car, fucking smiling as he tells me we're set and have rooms. I don't respond right away, trying to work out what to do now.

"What's wrong?" he asks, suddenly looking concerned.

I shrug, still trying to come up with a plan. I guess he can drop me off at the airport in Seattle tomorrow. Or I can take a bus from Portland to Denver.

But first things first.

"Nothing's wrong. Let's get drunk."

* * *

**Not many chapters left, y'all. Thanks for readingggg. Hope everyone had a lovely Christmas!**

**Vic read part of this. And then I made my bf read the other half. So blame them for all the mistakes.**


	7. Seven

**Disclaimer: No copyright infringement intended.**

**HELLO. THIS IS AN EDWARD POINT OF VIEW CHAPTER. OKAY. JUST TRYING TO CATCH YOUR ATTENTION. CARRY ON.**

* * *

**Portland, Oregon  
December 25  
12:32 am**

**EPOV**

"Wow. This dude is fucking terrible."

"It's karaoke. No one is actually supposed to be good," I muse. But yeah, this guy is awful. I didn't realize someone could butcher _Jingle Bells_ this badly.

"It's not just karaoke, Edward. It's _Christmas Carol_-oke," Bella deadpans. "Get it right."

I cut my eyes to her. She's been in a terrible mood ever since we arrived in Portland. To be honest, she's basically been in a bad mood since I first met her, but up until now there was always a joking undertone to whatever she was saying. So of course, I've found it highly amusing.

"'Nother round?" the bartender asks.

I look at Bella's pint, then shake my head.

"Maybe in a few," I tell him.

This bar wouldn't be my first choice, but Bella wanted to come in. Because it was the closest place with alcohol, she'd said. There's a broken jukebox in the corner and the stool Bella is sitting on has a broomstick handle in place of a leg. It's dingy, and the Christmas lights hanging around the bar don't really do much.

"Merry Christmas," the guy who was singing says into the mic. "But not to you, Rhonda. You fucking bitch. But to everyone else, Merry Christmas!"

"Christmas can suck my dick," Bella mumbles in response.

"Are... you okay?"

"What?" she asks louder than necessary.

"Are you okay?" I ask again, but lean closer so my mouth is by her ear.

She pulls back a bit, eyes flicking to my mouth. "I'm fine. Why?"

"Because you're being more of a Scrooge than usual."

I decide not to push it when she only responds with a shrug. If she wants to talk, she will.

She chugs the remaining beer in her glass, then orders another. And another. And occasionally I'll order us a whiskey shot to switch things up. This goes on for a while until she's drunk and I'm partially buzzed.

Of course, I don't realize just how drunk she is until she announces she has to pee and slides off the barstool. I grab her by the waist to steady her, and she places her hands on my shoulders. She stands straight, then laughs, because almost diving face-first onto the floor is apparently hilarious.

"Hey, I'm gonna help you to the bathroom," I tell her, keeping a hand on her waist.

She shakes her head in time as she says, "Nope, nope, nope."

"Okay, but you can't even walk, and—"

"Don't tell me I can't walk," she slurs. "I've walked every day of my life so don't tell me I can't walk because I can walk."

I hold my hands up. "Fair enough. You can walk."

She takes two steps, which is good. But they're not straight, and she tips sideways, which _isn't_ good.

"How about the person who can walk a straight line gets to make the decisions?" I suggest.

"I'm _fine_, dude. You don't even know how fine I am."

I raise both eyebrows. I don't think that's a conversation she wants to get into right now.

"Okay." I scrub a hand over my face, not sure how to deal with this situation. "You go to the bathroom, I'll pay for our drinks, and then we can head back to the hotel."

"No hotel." She pulls her hair over her shoulder, then attempts to give me a stern look. "Let's drink more."

"What?" I grab her elbow before she walks off. "Bella, it's almost one in the morning and we have to wake up early to drive to Seattle."

"I'm not going to Seattle anymore. So, how about _you_ go to the hotel and I stay here. And drink. And be fucking merry."

"What? When did the plan change? You're going to Seattle. I'm not going to leave you here alone, Bella."

"No," she says slowly, drawing out the word. "I'm not going to Seattle. I called my dad earlier, okay? Mr. Nosy Guy." She shoves my shoulder. "My dad isn't even in Seattle so now I have to spend Christmas alone like an orphan."

"I'm sorry," I tell her, placing both hands on her shoulders as I bend my knees so we're eye-level. I still don't know what the hell she's going on about, but it's clear she's upset. So I tell her, "Whatever it is, we'll figure something out, okay?"

"But it's not _your_ problem, man. So just head back and I'll stay here and drink and blah blah blah."

"I know it's not my problem, Bella. Let's go back to the hotel and you can explain to me whatever the hell is going on, okay?"

Looking down, she nods, then heads toward the bathroom. I keep an eye on her until she disappears behind the door. After closing out my tab, I wait for her by the entrance. She takes a little longer than expected, and I'm about to go check on her when she makes her way toward me.

"I threw up," she whispers, leaning close. I can't smell anything, which is good. But her cheeks are stained with tears and there's black shit under her eyes.

I step back a bit, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Are you okay?"

"I am now. I'm sorry I puked. Are you mad?"

"You didn't puke on me, so no. I'm not mad."

"Okay. Just… don't be mad at me."

"Bella," I chuckle. "I'm not mad."

She hiccups. "Okay."

I ask if she's ready to go and she nods. I usher her in front of me, keeping a hand on her waist as I lead her out the door. It's cold outside, and she's not wearing a jacket because she insisted she wouldn't be cold. But now she's complaining that she's going to freeze to death, and instead of telling her she should've brought a jacket, I give her mine.

We're only a few blocks from the hotel, but with how slow and wobbly she's walking, it'll take us all night.

"Edward?" she asks. I turn to face her, but her focus is on the ground. "Will you give me a piggyback ride?"

I have to laugh. Her request is the most ridiculous thing to me. _This girl_ is the most ridiculous thing to me, because I never know what the hell she's going on about. And I'm pretty sure half the time she's just trying to piss me off.

But since she's cold and drunk and can't properly walk, I drop to my knees and tell her to get on.

* * *

**Thanks for waiting... and reading. Luv u guyz 4ever.**

**Kim and Vic are awesome for DOING THEIR ABSOLUTE BEST WITH THIS CHAPTER. no JOKE.**


	8. Eight

**Disclaimer: No copyright infringement intended.**

* * *

**Portland, Oregon  
December 25  
10:48 am  
**

I wake up, but I have no idea how because it feels like I should be dead. My head is throbbing, my throat is sore, and my mouth tastes so fucking gross. Like…

Oh.

Like puke.

_Yep. It tastes faintly of puke_.

It takes more effort than it should to open my eyes. But when I finally do, I see Edward. I'm not even surprised. He's not lying beside me this time, but sitting up against the headboard, typing on his laptop.

"There's water on the bedside table," he says, not looking at me. "And ibuprofen. And a bagel."

Okay, I was wrong. This isn't Edward. It's an angel.

"Why do you look like that?" I ask, groaning as I sit up.

"Like what?"

"Like you don't hate your life."

He chuckles, shutting his laptop. "Because I didn't drink nearly as much as you did."

It's sad I have to ask, but, "We're in Portland, right?"

"Right."

"I don't really remember much from last night. Care to fill me in?" I ask around a mouthful of bagel.

He looks skeptical. And good. He looks good. His hair is a little oily and messy and there's stubble on his cheeks and chin.

"You sure about this?" he asks.

"Jesus, is it that bad?" He chuckles, and fuck my life. "Yes, I'm sure. Tell me everything."

"Well… you puked. In the bar."

I wince. "Like… in the bathroom, right? Not in the actual bar."

"The fact that I have to make this distinction for you is concerning, but yes. You graced the bathroom with your puke, not the patrons of the bar."

"That's not so bad then…" Okay, it _is_ bad. It's awful. I'm twenty-four. I should be able to hold my liquor. But I'm trying to feign a little dignity here.

"What else…" He taps his chin, humming a little. I shove his arm, telling him to get on with it. "Okay, okay. You asked me to give you a piggyback ride, then tried to get me to take you through the McDonald's drive-thru."

"I mean, that's just… being environmentally friendly. You know. Instead of taking a car through the drive-thru…"

"Oh, it gets better. I talked you into ordering inside, where you ate half a cheeseburger then wrapped the rest of it and tried giving it back to the employee behind the counter."

"At least I wasn't being… wasteful." I'm really grasping at straws here.

"We finally made it back to the hotel. You kissed me in the elevator. Talked about being disappointed over your dad, then passed out. But not before jumping on the bed. You almost fell off—"

"I'm sorry, what?"

"What?"

"What do you mean _what_? We _kissed_?" I'm whispering. I have no idea why.

"Well, _you_ kissed _me_," he mock-whispers.

I can't believe I practically threw myself at a stranger. That's pretty low. But I mean… I was drunk. And he's Edward. He doesn't feel like a stranger. Not anymore, anyway.

"Did you kiss me back?" I wonder, staring at the bagel in my hands.

He doesn't say anything straight away, maybe waiting for me to look at him. Because when I finally do, he answers me.

"I did kiss you back."

I can't not stare at his lips when I ask, "And that's all that happened?"

"Yes."

"Well…" I blank on what to say now. Do I thank him? Or apologize? "I'm… sorry if my mouth tasted like puke."

This. This is why I don't have a boyfriend.

Instead of running far, far away, he laughs, easing the tension. Bless this man's soul. Really. He's put up with so much of my shit over the past two days. I don't know why he's still here, don't know why he's still nice to me, but he is. And I'm probably just feeling vulnerable due to my hangover, but that doesn't change the fact that Edward is the fucking nicest human being ever.

"No, no. It was… you're fine," he assures me. "It wasn't pukey. Tasted mostly of McDonald's cheeseburger. Which… can sometimes taste of puke. I guess. But your mouth… no."

I smile slowly. He's rambling. Which I'm finding entirely endearing. And he's lying about my puke-breath, which is even cuter.

"Thanks, though. For taking care of me," I say sincerely. "And not… killing me," I add, smiling.

"You're welcome."

I'm about to apologize for not remembering our kiss, but I've made a big enough fool of myself already, so I decide to go with: "What time is it anyway?"

"Almost eleven, I think."

"Can we go eat food? Like really greasy food? I'll pay," I offer. "I feel like I should make it up to you. And then we can figure out everything. Maybe you can still drop me off in Seattle, if it's not too much trouble."

"Yeah." He nods in agreement, then says, "I was actually thinking you could just come home with me. To Forks."

"To Forks," I repeat flatly.

"Yeah. I mean, what's your other option?"

"Flying out of Seattle. Taking a bus. Train. Finding another stranger to drive me back to Denver," I list off.

"Go back to Denver to what, Bella?" he asks, frowning. "Be alone on Christmas?"

Okay, that's fucking depressing. But still. "I can't impose on your family's Christmas, Edward. I'd feel like such a… a stray. A trampy stray."

"I'm inviting you," he says softly. "You wouldn't be imposing."

"That's seriously, like, the nicest fucking thing ever. But I can't. I really can't."

"Give me one legitimate reason why you shouldn't, and I'll drop it."

I think. Hard. For a solid thirty seconds. "So unfair, dude. You know I'm brain-dead right now."

"Fine. Let's go eat, give you some brainpower, and if you come up with a good reason, I'll drive you to Seattle or whatever."

"And if I don't come up with a good reason… you'll kill me?"

"Jesus," he laughs, scratching his chin. "Listen, if I wanted to kill you, I would've done it a long time ago."

"That's not… entirely comforting. But I guess you have a point. Let's go eat."

* * *

**Hope everyone has a less-than-shitty Monday. Thanks for reading.**

Thanks to my Srupy Branch for all their help!


	9. Nine

**Disclaimer: No copyright infringement intended.**

**Portland, Oregon  
December 25  
12:12 pm  
**

"So what's your family like?" I ask, dipping a fry in ketchup. "Just so I know what I'm getting myself into."

Edward takes his time thinking, then settles for, "Normal, I guess."

"I'm not familiar with normal. Explain."

"Parents are still married. My dad retired a year ago, so he spends his time bugging my mom." This makes him smile, which makes me smile. "I have an older brother, Emmett, who's an aggressive gluten-free vegan. I also have a younger sister, Alice, who's married and has a kid on the way."

"You were right. They sound pretty damn normal," I muse. "First time being an uncle?"

"Yep. I'm pretty excited."

He grins and it's so boyishly fucking handsome, it makes me feel sick. Or maybe that's just my bitch of a hangover.

"That's cool," I tell him. "You're like, all cute and shit about your family."

He looks amused as he pushes the sleeves of his sweater over his forearms. "I guess."

"It's a good thing. I promise. I didn't mean that to sound so… whatever."

"It's fine," he says, breathing out a laugh. "What about your family?"

"What about them?"

"What are they like?"

I shake my head. "This is about you, not me. All that information was necessary because _I'm_ the one who's crashing your family's Christmas."

"For the millionth time, you're _invited_, not imposing. Besides," he adds, "I'm curious."

We stare at each other in silence. Part of me wants to peace out because talking about my family is a huge fucking _no_. But the other part just wants to get this over with and tell him everything because he's looks so interested.

"Fine," I sigh. "Let's see… my dad split when I was fifteen and moved to Seattle. I see him like, two or three times a year, but that's mostly my doing. He doesn't really make an effort."

"You mentioned some of that last night," he replies with a small nod. "What about your mom?"

"She's a functioning alcoholic who moved to Florida two years ago and got remarried to some dude named Phil. He's good for her, I think. I mean, she sounds happy when we talk. But that could also be the booze. Who knows."

"That sounds rough," he says quietly, never taking his eyes off my face, like he's hanging on to my every word.

I look away, busying myself with tearing my fries in half. I know his eyes are still on me because I can feel them. Talking to him about my family didn't make me nearly as uncomfortable as I thought it would.

"It's whatever," I mumble, shrugging. "I should seriously shut up. Hangovers make me vulnerable. I don't even know why I told you all of that."

"Well, I asked. I don't mind listening."

"You were probably expecting the good-on-paper version. Not the real one."

"Real is better," he says simply, holding my gaze.

I swallow, not sure what to say to that or how to take it. It's crazy to me that I've just opened up to this stranger. I've known him for, what, two days? He already knows more about me than my roommate. The urge to crack a joke or say something to ease the tension is overwhelming, but for once, I say nothing and just let the moment pass.

Edward must sense my unease, because he pulls out his wallet and throws some cash on the table. "So. What do you think?"

"About?"

"You wanna spend Christmas with my family?"

"Okay." I cross my arms, but keep a small smile on my face. "As long as dinner doesn't consist of tofurkey, I'm in."

**Forks, Washington  
December 25  
5:43 pm  
**

It's almost six when we finally arrive in Forks.

The town is fucking small. Like _blink and you'll fucking miss it_ small. But there's a certain charm to it that makes me feel warm.

Edward slows in front of a house, pulling into the driveway. It's smaller than I was expecting. The front porch is draped in garland, and the rest of the house is decorated in white lights.

"I'll get our bags later," he tells me. "If that's okay?"

"Yeah, sure."

We exit the car and I follow behind him. He glances back just before he walks in, and I'm suddenly nervous as fuck.

"Wait, wait, wait," I say, grabbing his arm to stop him from opening the door.

He turns around, brows pulled together. "Yeah?"

"What if they hate me?"

"They're not going to hate you."

"Okay, but I'm," I lower my voice, "kind of an asshole. And I'm nervous. And the catch is that I need alcohol to not feel nervous, but if I'm drunk, I say and do inappropriate things. Like kiss you, apparently. And I don't really want to make a fool out of myself again and—"

Before I can say another word, Edward's lips are on mine, sufficiently shutting me up. His mouth begins to move slowly, lips soft but insistent. I feel his hand cup the side of my neck and his breath on my face. His bottom lip gently grazes my top lip and his grizzly cheeks are rough against mine.

He slows the kiss, pecking me twice before pulling away, but keeps his head close to mine.

I catch my breath.

"I hope that was okay," he whispers.

I nod dumbly. "It was more than okay."

"Did it help you calm down?"

"Definitely not calmer, but you did help me forget whatever the hell I was talking about." I blink a few times, body still buzzing. "I'm still not completely convinced you aren't going to kill me, but you're one hell of a kisser. Just thought you should know that."

He grins down at me. "Well if _you_ weren't such a good kisser, I would have to kill you."

"Should we stop with the murder jokes?"

"Probably. Just until we're no longer in front of my parents."

"Sounds like a plan."

* * *

**I know it's no longer Christmas but like I suck at updating so just don't hate me please.**

**Thanks for reading.  
**

**Much love for Kimmy and Vickie.**


	10. Ten

**Disclaimer: No copyright infringement intended.**

**Forks, Washington  
December 25  
5:56 pm  
**

When Edward opens the front door, we're not bombarded with people like I was expecting. Which is perfect. Because I still need a minute or so to collect myself after that kiss.

We walk into the dimly lit entryway, and Edward closes the door behind us, shutting out the cold air. I glance around, taking everything in. There's a coat rack by the front door, and a table against the wall, littered with a tiny Christmas village. There's a staircase straight ahead, the banister wrapped in garland, and family photos cluttering the opposite wall.

Somewhere in the house we hear muffled conversation and light laughter. Edward takes my coat, giving my hand a quick squeeze. I'm not used to this type of affection, but I think I like it. A lot.

I follow him through the house, eyes bouncing around. The living room is small. _It's a Wonderful Life_ is silently playing on the television. There's a Christmas tree in the corner, the top of it free of any star or angel because it touches the ceiling.

We round the corner, and as we enter the kitchen, I try to hide behind Edward as long as I can.

I nearly jump the fuck out of my skin when a loud voice yells out, "Eddie man! You finally made it, you fucking tool."

"How many times do I have to tell you, Emmett? Watch your language," the woman standing at the stove scolds. Her back is to us. Her chestnut hair is pulled back into a low bun and she's wearing an apron, so naturally I assume she's Edward's mom. "Rosie won't wanna marry a man with a dirty mouth," she adds.

"Yeah, Ma. Alright, Ma," Emmett, mumbles, then stands to hug Edward.

There's some weird bro hug thing going on when a dark-haired woman, who's sitting down and rubbing her swollen belly, notices me.

"And who's this?" she asks, eyeing me.

Everyone's eyes are on me now. Edward turns around and begins to speak, but I panic and interrupt him.

"Hi." I wave. But then feel really dumb. Do people even wave anymore? I haven't seen anyone wave in the past five years. "I'm Bella, Edward's friend. Sort of. I mean, we are friends, but we basically just met two days ago. That's where the _sort of_ part comes in. Not because of anything else."

I cut my eyes to Edward, who's just standing there, grinning at me. I try speaking to him telepathically. _A little fucking help would be nice, dude_.

"Yeah, this is Bella," Edward says.

Not what I had in mind, but whatever.

"Well, no fucking shit. She just told us that," Emmett says sarcastically, slapping Edward's chest.

Edward moves across the kitchen, a little closer to me. "Bella was supposed to be flying to Seattle, but when they cancelled our flight, I offered her a ride."

"Yo, dumbass. You forgot to drop her off in Seattle," Emmett snorts.

"Actually, plans changed at the last minute," I offer. "And Edward was nice enough to invite me here."

"My boy is a sweet one. And you're more than welcome here. I'm Esme." The woman in the apron walks toward me with open arms. Like, literally, her arms are open. I have a sneaking suspicion she's about to hug me.

"Nice to," her arms wrap around my shoulders, "meet you, too. Thanks for letting me… be here."

"Of course. My children are crazy and fight like they're five, but you'll soon get used to it. Would you like some wine?" she asks, already heading toward a bottle of red on the counter. "It helps."

"Um… sure. Yes. That'd be great."

The woman who's sitting at the table stands, with the help of the blond dude next to her. "I'm Alice. This is Jasper," she introduces, then slaps the back of Edward's head. "Why the hell didn't you tell us she was coming, you jackass?"

Edward winces, rubbing his head. "When I last talked to you, she wasn't part of the plan. And Jesus, Alice. You're pregnant. Aren't you supposed to be less violent?"

"I've already had to give up alcohol," Alice says, staring longingly at the glass of wine Esme just placed in my hand. "Let me at least keep one thing that makes me happy."

"Abusing me makes you happy?" Edward says flatly. "And Mom wonders why I never come home."

"Drama queen," Alice mutters under her breath.

Esme turns around, pointing at them with her wooden spoon. "Stop it. The both of you. We have a guest. Pretend you have manners."

I laugh quietly when Edward looks down at me, shaking his head. His family is much more ridiculous than I had imagined. And even though they've been bickering since we arrived, it's obvious they love each other.

Edward peers into the fridge and grabs a beer, popping open a can of Rainier. "Where's Dad?"

"Upstairs taking a nap. You know how he gets," Esme replies.

Edward chuckles. "And Rosie?"

"Ma didn't want to accommodate _everyone's_ diet needs," Emmett mutters. "So we're gonna have dinner at her parents' place."

"Emmett wanted tofurkey," his mom interjects. "I put my foot down after he requested beet salad."

"That's perfect," Edward laughs, catching my eye. "Bella said she wouldn't come with me if we were having tofurkey."

I cringe, shooting him a look, because I don't want to fucking offend anyone.

"Well I'm glad." Esme winks at me. "We'd much rather have you here than Emmett."

I answer a few more harmless questions before Edward asks if I want to head out to the porch for some air. We grab our coats from the rack, and Edward holds my glass as I button up. Wood creaks beneath our shoes as we walk to the end where there's a porch swing.

He lets me sit down first, making the wine jostle in my glass when he finally sits.

"How you holding up?" he asks.

"Fine, I think. Your family is really nice. And fucking funny." I take a sip of wine. "And abusive," I add as an afterthought.

He barks out a laugh, staring out into the yard. "All true things."

We're quiet for a minute before I say, "Hey, uh… thanks for bringing me. Seriously. And for not killing me. I really appreciate it."

He smirks, bumping my shoulder with his. "I wouldn't kill you before giving you your Christmas present. What a waste of money that'd be."

My eyes narrow. "What present?"

"It's nothing big. Kind of a joke, really. Just something I think you'll like."

"How'd you pull that off?" I wonder. "I've basically been with you the entire time."

"I have my ways," he murmurs, smiling gently. "You can have it after dinner."

I swallow, not able to take my eyes off his mouth. "Okay."

"Okay." He leans closer. "Can I admit something?"

I nod. It's all I can do with him being so close and staring at me like that. And it's fucking crazy to me that I was so unaffected by him in the beginning. Because now it's like… it's just… stupid. I'm an incoherent mess. Clearly.

He clears his throat, then says, "I'm glad you took me up on my offer. I don't think I was ready to say bye to you just yet."

I inch closer, and before our lips meet I whisper, "You're kind of growing on me, too."

* * *

**Thanks for reading and for telling me that y'all won't hate me for updating a Christmas story after Christmas. I love y'all.  
****  
Kimmy & Vickie are my favorite.****  
**


End file.
